A Brief Respite
by grieverwings
Summary: In a way, Sazh wasn't surprised when Vanille took the precaution of drawing a line in the dirt between them. A few little drabble-y scenes here and there. Sazh/Vanille
1. The Vile Peaks

Of course, the first night they spent together was bound to be some kind of awkward. They'd barely been acquainted, after all, before their l'Cie brands and a common objective – running away – brought them together. Besides, with personalities so forceful as Snow's and Lightning's, who had obviously known each other before this (judging by their constant arguing and just how hard she had punched him the face), it was hard to notice anyone besides those standing at the forefront of things, driving everyone to an uncertain Focus and certain doom. Even after he and Vanille had parted ways with everyone else, however, it was still difficult to really get to know each other between obnoxious machinery stomping around and the constant threat of death. So, in a way, Sazh wasn't surprised when Vanille took the precaution of drawing a line in the dirt between them. Sure, it irked him, because not only did she have the audacity to suggest he might try something, she _also_ automatically claimed that tarp she'd found for herself, but he understood.

He thought about this as he settled down on the ground, listening to Vanille's too-steady breathing that automatically told him she was feigning sleep. Really, where had she gotten even the foggiest idea that he might try… something? Was it something she would have done were she traveling with any, er, member of the opposite sex? Or maybe she'd noticed his… unfortunate slip-up not too long ago (hastily prevented by his trusty chocobo chick, of course, but he supposed that wouldn't make it count any less).

Regardless, he thought as his eyes started to slide shut and exhaustion weighed heavily on his bones, she could draw all the lines she wanted. Crossing that line was the absolute _furthest_ thing from his mind, and _next time_ – Sazh yawned, and the chocobo cooed as it fluttered to the ground and covered its head with one wing – next time, _he_ got the tarp.

What felt like two seconds later, Sazh jolted awake and stared blearily at the chocobo chick. He could feel a body pressed against his, long and solid and trembling, and for a moment he tried to register exactly what could be causing it. With sleep still clouding his eyes, he lifted up a bit to peer over his shoulder. Expecting to see the silly line in the dirt, and his unofficial charge sleeping some-odd feet away on the tarp that she had not asked him if he wanted, he instead saw a tangle of curly red hair and a cream-white shoulder. She was shaking against him, sniffling and whimpering, and he felt a huge pull of sympathy for her – he knew when someone was having a nightmare. Imagine, a girl her age, having nightmares like that…

"Still a kid," he muttered to himself. Sazh settled back down on his arm, regretfully thinking that if only he wasn't too tired to move, he'd get up and use that tarp himself, if she was going to abandon it. He focused blearily on the chocobo, his little head tucked as close to his wing as he was going to get, and tried to drift back to sleep.

"I'm sorry…"

This time, Sazh's eyes opened wide. Well, damn. He was awake now.

"I didn't mean…"

"Vanille?" he whispered, looking over his shoulder again. The girl had curled in on herself even tighter, only the base of her spine still pressed against him, and she was most certainly crying. "Vanille," he tried again, wondering if she was even awake. Probably not.

Vanille whimpered again, curled tighter still, and her curls bounced as she shook her head. Suddenly, she yelped, sitting up in a flash and looking around frantically, wildly. In his surprise, Sazh rolled away from her, almost squishing the chick, and gaped as her gaze focused squarely on him. Her eyes were glazed with tears, her cheeks tracked with them, and she was breathing as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her.

"It's my fault," she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Sazh knew better than to reason with someone waking up from a nightmare; right now she wasn't going to listen to any sort of sense, and if she wanted to tell him the sky was green, he'd let her believe it. Still, he couldn't imagine her being guilty of anything, so he searched for words for a moment before saying, "It's okay."

"No, it's not," she replied, and to his horror, she began crying again. He couldn't help but stare at her, watching as she wiped her eyes with dirty hands and streaked marks across her face, and he didn't really know what to do. He'd figured out a long time ago what to do for Dajh, but that was his son, and this girl was practically grown, not to mention he still felt a bit guilty for sneaking an albeit thwarted peek at her while she was climbing around.

"Hey," he tried, in his best comforting voice. "It'll be all right. Everything's fine." Vanille put her hands down and stopped sobbing, looking at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. The depth of pain, fear, and hurt in her eyes surprised Sazh, and all he could do was blink at her – he felt ashamed of himself, almost.

"I didn't mean to," she said, her voice shaking. "I really didn't."

"I know you didn't," he said, surprised at the words as they flew out of his mouth. "I know."

She kept looking at him with those horribly deep eyes, practically begging him for some sort of reassurance, and too swayed to think twice about what he did, Sazh opened his arms just wide enough for her to register the invitation. Vanille seemed to consider him for a moment, unstoppable tears still streaking through the dirt on her face, until hesitantly she shuffled toward him. She didn't put herself in his arms, he'd remember later, she just sat next to him, staring at him with those eyes, and part of him did it because he didn't like her looking at him like that, like she expected him to save her. He couldn't save anyone, and he knew it, and it was probably stupid of him to think that's what she wanted in the first place, so in the end, he didn't really know why he did it.

He just reached out for her, took her shoulder, and pulled her in.

She took hold of him quickly, grasping the back of his coat with one hand and the other was busy strangling his button-up shirt, and he almost automatically regretted this. Not because she was busy soaking his front, which she was, and not because it was altogether unpleasant… which it wasn't. In fact, that was why he regretted it: it felt nice, having her – someone – anyone – next to him like this. It couldn't feel nice, it wasn't supposed to feel nice… but it did. And he couldn't possibly let go of her now, because that would be just plain cruel, but even as something warm blossomed in a spot suspiciously near his heart, he wished he'd never woken up in the first place.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her breath fluttering against his shirt, and despite himself, he patted her back gently.

"It's okay," he said, and he patted her again, letting his hand linger against her for just a moment. "It's fine."

They sat there like that for a while, poor Vanille's body twisted so that she could fit against him, and no matter how his mind raged at him and told him that this was in no way okay, he felt comfortable, almost drowsy again, and his body wasn't listening. Only when her breathing evened out and the little hiccupping sobs stopped did he pull away from her a bit and look down – she was falling asleep.

"Hey," he whispered. He expected another jolt, another jump, but instead, she looked up at him slowly, orbs of bright green digging into his soul again, and he felt a surge of guilt. She was so… young. "Why don't you go lay down?" Sazh asked her, jerking his head toward the tarp and the line drawn what felt like years ago by someone entirely different.

"Okay," Vanille murmured, pulling away to rub at her eyes – almost instantly, it almost felt as though Sazh had lost something, and he was staggered by it. He couldn't rationalize it – didn't want to, either, because he really didn't want to think about the implications, but he certainly felt colder. Without another word, she made her way back to her little spot, smudging up the line, and flopped back down on the tarp. Within a few seconds, she was asleep, and Sazh was left to gape at her and wonder what on earth had just happened.

"Like I'll get any sleep now," he muttered to himself, but with a heavy sigh, he laid back in the dirt and stared up at the sky, willing his eyelids to grow heavier. Odds were, she wouldn't remember any of that in the morning… and he couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad thing.

**AN: Sort of pointless, story-elaborating mini-fluff… I did this mostly for fun, since I'm replaying the game. I might end up elaborating on this, making it a small multi-part fic, but for now, this is what I've got. :) I've always loved Sazh and Vanille together, really, for some reason it just stuck with me, so it's a real bummer that there's not more for them out there.**

**Named for one of the in-game tracks.**


	2. The Sunleth Waterscape

Over the past few days, Sazh had learned a lot of interesting things about himself. Primarily, he'd learned that even though he was (admittedly) a little more mature than any of the other l'Cie, and his bones creaked in protest more often than they had in years, he was definitely a lot lighter on his feet than he'd thought. After all, for years, he'd done nothing more strenuous than lifting his son up on his shoulders or messing with a reluctant plane yoke, and here he was climbing up things only to jump off them again… and running. Lots of running.

He stumbled, occasionally, which was only to be expected, and that was where it was beneficial to have someone with him. Normally, tripping and falling resulted in little more than bruises or complete embarrassment, but here, where everything was green and damp and full of fun little cliffs that jumped out and yelled "surprise!," the wrong footing could send him plummeting to his death. To be perfectly honest, it probably would have happened already, if Vanille hadn't been right next to him the entire time, leaping forward to steady him with a playful, "Oopsie-daisy!" or "Better be more careful, old man!"

Old man. He knew she didn't really mean it, at least not in a derogatory sense, but those words stung a little every time she casually tossed them his way. Ever since the little episode their first night under the stars, he was much more… aware of her. That was a proper way to put it. In fact, she almost irritated him – springing back and forth with no trouble at all, in her stupid skirt that was definitely not distracting him, as if she was showing off how much more agile she was. How much younger.

No, they definitely stung. Forty really isn't that old, comparatively – in the prime of life, some would say – but next to her? He might as well walk with a cane and complain about how when he was a boy, everything cost five Gil and he had to walk uphill both ways everywhere he went.

But he tolerated it. When she grabbed his arm and yanked him back from the edge of one of those ridiculous precipices, he simply smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Guess I'm a little out of practice." He didn't explain how he really felt, in terms such as, "Well, if you hadn't brought us here in the first place, I wouldn't have to worry about slipping in a puddle and sliding away to my doom, would I?"

Still, now that they'd spent some time here, he understood why Vanille was drawn to this place. Once you got past the mildew smell and the way almost everything wanted to kill you, it really was beautiful. The sunlight filtering through all the trees created an almost blue sort of haze, and the occasional bloom of pinks and purples created a kaleidoscope of color he didn't really think he'd ever seen before. Every breath he took teemed with _life_, wild animals surging around them and bugs in the air and the distant croak of hopefully harmless frogs, something that a person who spent their life in Cocoon cities could never understand. It was almost worth the danger, just to be in this stunning place.

"Sazh! Aren't you coming?"

Sazh jumped, turning so quickly that he almost slipped in another puddle. A leafy platform away, Vanille had her hands on her hips and was bent forward, playfully frowning at him. Planting his feet solidly in the muddy grass, he scratched the back of his head and rolled his shoulders.

"Sorry!" he called. "Guess I was a little caught up in thought." He'd been doing an awful amount of guessing lately.

Dreading the precarious jump to where Vanille still stood, waiting for him, Sazh backed up a little and made ready to take a running leap. To his surprise, Vanille moved first, hopping back down to his platform with dexterity, of which he was most definitely jealous. Water splashed around her as she landed, getting the bottom half of his pants completely soaked. Great. That was going to be comfortable.

"Maybe we should take a little break," she said thoughtfully, kicking her boot gently back and forth in the puddle. "After all, we've gotta keep up our strength!"

He wasn't sure if that was another comment on how old he was, but if it was, he was too grateful to be upset over it. Taking a second to find the driest spot possible, he flopped backwards and groaned. "The dock shouldn't be too far away," he said, looking up as he felt his hair being shoved aside for the chocobo chick's entrance. Vanille giggled and squatted down, holding out her hands as the chick burst forth. Chirping gratefully, it settled down into her palms and started preening itself.

"And then to Nautilus," she chirped back.

Nautilus. The City of Dreams… Dajh.

And then the thought hit him: he was a terrible father.

Sazh was out here, running away, his thoughts unduly focused on a _kid_, when his son was being held somewhere by PSICOM, no father to protect him, no one to assure him that everything would be all right… Alone. Completely, utterly alone. And now he was breaking perhaps the most important promise he'd ever made in his life. He'd _promised_ Dajh, _promised_ him that they would go to Nautilus, and spend as much time there as he wanted, and see the chocobos and ride the rides… and now, they probably never would. No, they certainly never would. He was condemned to become a Cie'th, unable to fulfill his focus, and Dajh… either Cie'th, or crystallization. They were both completely undesirable, but which was worse… he wasn't sure he could make that decision. But, here he was, merrily on his way to Nautilus. Despite being a l'Cie, despite being scared out of his wits, they were still going, and they were going _without_ him. It hurt him, physically, just thinking about it.

But where else could they possibly go? They couldn't go to Palumpolum. They couldn't stay here – they were bound to be caught, eventually. What else was there to do besides press forward, and to Nautilus?

Sazh passed a hand over his face and sighed, standing up again. Vanille tilted her head up at him, quirking an eyebrow, but he looked away quickly. He didn't need to be thinking about her right now. He didn't want to be thinking about _anything_ right now. "We should move," he said, shaking his legs a bit to get rid of the excess water. "We've got a ways to go."

He heard a chirp, and after a moment, he felt the chick bury its way back into his hair, nestling down onto the top of his head. As soon as it had stopped moving, he turned his attention back to the treacherous platform looming ahead, and stretched a bit in preparation. He was going to make this one, without stumbling, without almost dying, just to prove to himself that he could. Just to prove that he really wasn't that horribly _old_.

"Sazh…?" Vanille asked, but he still refused to acknowledge her. He needed to take some time to be quiet, to think… and getting a little bit ahead of her might help things. So, even though his body was screaming at him not to do it, and his knees were definitely _not_ shaking in anticipation or fear, he took a deep breath and galloped forward at full-speed. He was going to make it. "Sazh!"

Too late, he felt his foot land square in one of those _goddamn_ puddles. Time slowed down to an imperceptible crawl, and he knew that he was going to go skidding off the edge and _really_ die this time if he didn't find something to grab onto, or some way to stop, and wasn't this just _exactly_ what would happen to him right now? As the edge yawed up to meet him, his brain finally managed to communicate _JUMP_ to his legs, and at the last possible moment, Sazh extended his legs in the best leap he could manage. It wasn't much of a jump at all; he went only just far enough to throw his arms over the edge of the next platform and cling to the grass, but it was enough – he wasn't dead, and shouldn't that be his number one priority?

"Are you all right?" Vanille cried. Sazh kicked his legs once, trying to hoist himself up and over, but it was definitely going to take more work than that.

"Yeah," he called backwards, kicking again. "I'm fine."

His son was being held captive by a psychotic woman bent on using him as a tool, within a few weeks he would probably be a Cie'th, Lightning and the others had probably been captured by now, surely he and Vanille were next, and he was currently dangling off the edge of a cliff. Other than that, he was perfectly fine.

**AN: I did decide to keep this going… but I don't know for how long. Since the title is "A Brief Respite," I decided to keep it limited to scenes where Sazh and Vanille aren't really doing much. While they're resting, you know, or just taking some time for introspection. This one comes before Sazh tells Vanille about Dajh, and his mood completely goes in the crapper, but it still fits, I think, because in the gameplay, he's still making comments about weed killer and how "all this dampness is damp," and then suddenly it's a 180 degree mood shift, you know? Anyway, I think he'd be struggling with some feelings of… inadequacy, maybe, betrayal.**

**And because Sazh is the butt monkey of the group, I figured that if this scene had actually been in the game, it wouldn't be surprising if it ended something like this. Poor Sazh. He's responsible for about seventy-five percent of the physical comedy.**


End file.
